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I froze, the Russian name sounding familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it. “I’m afraid my training didn’t extend to arts and architecture.”
She shrugged, still avoiding my gaze. “If you don’t mind, I need a few minutes to meditate. I’m a nervous flyer and need to get centered, so I don’t freak out on you during take-off.”
That was an outright lie, but I let her have it, thinking she needed a few minutes to calm down. If I felt like I was coming off of a mission from that visit, I could only imagine what she felt, being a civilian. “Of course.” What did she think I would tell her? No?
Sure enough, she closed her eyes, taking deep, steady breaths in and out, totally ignoring everyone and everything as she shut out the world. When we arrived on the tarmac next to the plane, and the driver parked, I wasn’t sure what to do. Were you supposed to interrupt someone meditating or wait until they finished? The driver and I looked back and forth, uncomfortable and unsure, but said nothing as several more minutes passed.
Finally, just as I was about to speak, her eyes popped open. “Are we there?” she asked, craning her head around to see out the window.
“Yep,” I said, “just waiting on you.” We all got out, the driver popping the trunk and preparing to pull out our luggage, but I stopped him, grabbing all but the smallest case. She grabbed it, waving absentmindedly at the driver before heading up the stairs and into the small jet.
I followed, careful not to hit my head before stepping inside the door and straightening once I was inside. A flight attendant slid behind me to close the door, clearly eager to get on our way. The number of people inside had me pausing. I’d assumed the jet was for Alessia, the flight attendant, a pilot, and me. Instead, I saw six other individuals surrounding Alessia, fussing over her as she greeted them with a smile.
“Who?” I asked as I placed the luggage on a rack. The flight attendant shrugged, clearly not caring who else was on board as long as they could get moving.
Alessia came back, a glass of water with lemon in her hand, and grabbed the last suitcase from me. “If you need anything, just let someone know,” she said hurriedly. I put an arm on her elbow, stopping her before she could run off.
“Who is everyone?”
“Oh.” She looked around. “My hairstylist, makeup, wardrobe, and their assistants. Plus the pilot and flight attendant.” She gave the male attendant a brief smile. “I don’t actually have enough time to get ready for the event once we land, so we’re taking advantage of the jet’s privacy to get ready while we fly.”
No sign of nervousness now. She was back to being her normal self. “No problems flying?” I couldn’t help but ask, and she waved a hand in dismissal.
“None. I just needed a few minutes to get myself back together.” Alessia tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I’ll be sure to leave you time to change. You’ll need a fresh suit, and I’m sure you wouldn’t pass up a shower either. We’ll be at the event for a few hours before heading to my apartment in Nice, a few miles away, so we can get some rest before our flight leaves in the morning.” She gave me a knowing look. “The apartment has great security, so you can get some actual sleep.”
I’d gone days without quality rest while I was serving, but the thought of decent sleep was welcome. The memory of past missions brought the lingering thought back, a name coming to me in a flash. “Demetri Melnikoff, the arms dealer?” I practically yelled the question.
She caught herself before flinching, just barely, before turning to me, her eyes narrowing. “Demetri Melnikoff is not an arms dealer. He’s a wealthy businessman who runs in the same social circles I do and was kind enough a few months ago to give me a tour of his childhood home.” She sniffed, then continued in a lower tone that only the two of us could hear. “Besides, it’s his father, Demetri Melnikoff Senior. He’s the arms dealer.” With that, she took her entourage and left me fuming while she disappeared into the back bedroom.
Chapter 15
Alessia
Idon’tknowwhatpossessed me to poke the bear, mentioning D.M. Senior, but I blamed it on the fact I’d had only one cup of caffeine in days paired with too little food. As soon as they gave us the all-clear to move around the jet, we headed straight to the bathroom. I let the women chatter around me as I pulled off my clothes, modesty stripped from me years ago, and jumped into the tiny shower. Taking another moment to go over everything in my mind, I made sure I cemented the floor plan, points of exit, security, and best lines in and out of the estate to memory. I had done the same in the car but was afraid I’d missed something. Too bad my home in Nice didn’t have a secure line or encrypted computer. I would have to keep everything fresh in my mind until I arrived home tomorrow. I didn’t even want to put pen to paper until I was safe in my basement.
The women—I could never remember their names no matter how often they said them—were used to me ignoring them, and they did the same. I might as well be a prized poodle the way they moved around me, fussing with my hair, makeup, and dress, but never looking at me, seeing me as an actual person and not just a canvas for them to decorate.
With difficulty, I got us all out of the back rooms so that Brody had time to shower and change before we had to strap in for landing. He’d barely glanced at me since we’d taken off, and I refused to be disappointed that my flaming red dress didn’t get so much as a double take. It was pretty kick-ass if I said so myself. Normally, I didn’t care what they put me in, clothes were clothes, and I couldn’t care less as long as they were comfortable—something I could never obtain while on the job—and kept me from being arrested. However, the one that evening tickled me a bit. The corset top was a little tight, but since, for once, I didn’t have to worry about my breasts spilling out, I was fine with giving it a pass. My arms and shoulders were bare, aside from a single diamond bracelet on my wrist and a matching one at my throat. In contrast to the top, the skirt was as loose as the corset was tight. It moved like water around me and had a sexy vibe, and—even more important to me—it was super easy to move around in. The slit on the side went nearly all the way to my hip, giving everyone a scintillating view of my left thigh, and the hem just barely skimmed the floor in my four-inch matching heels that wrapped around my ankles to my mid-calf. The red matched my nails perfectly, saving me from yet another torture session with a manicurist, as even Tony had cooperated for once and let me keep them for the photoshoot.
My stomach growled, and I put a hand to it in sympathy. I hadn’t had anything but a carton of yogurt, a cup of coffee, and a glass of lemon water the entire day. I promised my digestive tract actual food after the night was done, possibly before I even changed clothes. Movement next to my chair made me look up … and up. I whistled softly as he took his seat. “Damn, Brody, you clean up nice.” His solid black suit and white shirt fit like a glove.
“You fill out that dress pretty well, yourself,” he whispered back, buckling his seat belt.
“How do you know? You’ve barely glanced at me once since we walked onto the plane.” I wasn’t pouting. Or whining, or … whatever the hell I was doing.
“Which is one glance more than I should have,” he said under his breath as the wheels of the jet touched down.
I was still trying to decide what to say when we pulled to a stop, and he rose, extending a hand to me. “Shall we?”
Hours later, feet killing me, head aching, and my stomach pretty well convinced that someone had cut my throat at some point during the day and was physically incapable of providing substance to my body, I was beyond ready to call it a night.
I hated events like what we were attending. There were too many people, too much alcohol and drugs, and fake-ness was spoon-fed to the masses in spades. I couldn’t breathe properly, drowning in perfume and cologne. Movement was hard. There were so many people that even in the large space, you ran into someone trying to take more than one step at a time. Brody was solid, staying close without crowding. He did a good job staying visible when I needed him to be and invisible when he wasn’t.
Finally, having circled the room twice and kissed up to the executives from Valencia, I knew I’d done my duty and could leave without raising eyebrows. I caught Brody’s eye, motioning to the door, and he nodded. I knew he would alert our assigned driver and have the car pulled around.
“You didn’t think you were getting out of here without saying hi to me, did you,krasotka?” The voice drifted through the background noise.
I whirled around with a friendly smile on my face—the first real one of the night. “D.M., what are you doing here?” I let him pull me into a hug, kissing both cheeks before pulling back.
